Israel. Or lack thereof.

Dear Israel,

Due to our recent altercation with your incompetent border guards, I fear that any attempt of a relationship will be deemed null and void. Your blatant disrespect has further dishonored your country and has left us with a complete disinterest in furthering your economy. Good luck in the future, because this generation is extremely frustrated.

Love,
The country that you depend on





     This weekend, Akrum, Claire, Rebecca and I attempted to visit Israel, with all of its rich historical significance. Being completely dependent on US aid, you would think that Israel would be more than pleased to admit four American students. Unfortunately, this was not the case. After taking a taxi to the Jordanian border, another taxi to the Jordanian border exit, and a bus to the Israeli border entrance, Akrum was rudely separated from us girls and intensely questioned. Akrum happens to be an American born Jordanian. After questioning our motives for entering Israel "so late" (after class), we were refused entry. The reason they gave was that we came too late and that they did not have enough time to do background checks before allowing us into their country.  I may have believed them if they a.) didn't separate Akrum for intense questioning and repetitively asking where his other (non-existent) passport was b.) repeatedly asking me if "anyone" (while furtively looking at Akrum) gave me anything to bring into Israel or c.) telling us to come back in the morning and we "might" be allowed in. They told us that our first time in Israel required a three to four hour security check. To further disprove their lie, other American students had traveled the weekend before with less than an hour security check, with it being their first times in Israel as well. When asked why the security check would take that long, the iron clad reply we received was "that's confidential, we can't share that with you." Riiiiight. Perhaps Akrum looking too "Arab" had a little bit to do with it. Either way, we were not getting in.

     The Jordanian border guards proved to be correct. As they cheerily took us from security checkpoint to security checkpoint, they bantered with Akrum in his perfect Arabic. They laughed and told him that we would easily get in but he would not. إن شاء الله, he would. (God willing.) Apparently, Israelis do not want the revenue of Americans, nor this generation's support. As we politely left the border center, we were in a state of disbelief at the blatant racism shown to Akrum, an American citizen and student.

     The Jordanian border guards were the sweetest men ever, laughing and joking as they welcomed us back into their country. We went back to the Jordanian border and took a taxi back to the hotel, fuming. Keep treating people with blatant disregard and paranoia, Israel, and you'll be more alone than ever. Good luck, Israel, you'll need it.

Irbid, Jordan

Streets of Irbid.

A few interesting facts.

1. Cocktail does not mean alcoholic beverage.

2. Speedy internet is reserved for American cafes.

3. NesCafe will never replace a nonfat vanilla latte.

4. 1jd (1.40$) is an expensive cab ride.

5. 10jd (14$) is an expensive fruity beverage.

6. Toilet paper will never be in a public restroom. Ever.

7. Jordanians love Americans, but will charge double or triple the actual amount that the item or service     is worth.

8. Nail files and chapstick are ridiculously expensive.
9. Tissues are the new napkins.
10. Women dress just like us (in the privacy of their homes.)
11. Everyone wants to learn English. And a speaking partner.
12. Women must sit upstairs in restaurants.
13. Men hold hands with men in public, but not with women.

     I've had an opportunity to befriend many Jordanians here, and I've learned more about not only their language, but also their culture. In the beauty salon, the women were dressed very similarly to American girls, tank tops, jeans, with their hair flowing around them. Watching them dress to go outside was so interesting. They put up their hair, wrapped a scarf (or hijab) around it, and put on a long overcoat/dress over their outfit. As I got my nails done, they sat around me and chattered just like a salon in the United States. Except we don't have indentured servants that we refuse to let leave. The woman doing our nails described her trapped life as the owner's indentured servant. She came to Jordan from the Philippines to be the owner's nanny until she could pay off the cost the owner incurred to bring her here. The owner of the salon kept her visa and passport until that happens. Unfortunately, this woman tried to pay off her price, and the owner refused to let her. Jordan does not have the best laws regarding rights for indentured servants, so this woman, who has completed nursing school, is doing people's nails and slaving for this awful woman. Cassidy, Rebecca and I could not believe this was happening, and so blatantly. My other experiences have been much better.

     My conversation partner, Asil, is the sweetest girl ever. We speak in Arabic daily, and we also talk about our respective cultures. Women here have a lot more rights and are treated better than I thought. I also found out why women eat upstairs in restaurants. Women that wear the full black covering (abaya), must remove the face covering (niqab) to eat a meal. This cannot be done where men are present. This makes the situation understandable to me, as before I just felt like a second class citizen. Interestingly, women are paid the same amount as men, which is unlike the United States. Also unlike the United States, women keep their own earnings, while the man is obligated to use his earnings to take care of his wife, his children, his mother and father, his wife's mother and father, and his sisters. The woman here don't seem as restricted as I first thought, they just do things a bit differently than I'm used to. It's really interesting to hear about Asil's life and tell her about mine.

It's crazy that our time here is almost done, only a weekend of Israel and a week of class left!

Dead Sea, Jordan

Sunset viewed from Jordan.

     Travel lesson number three: Never believe an Arab cab driver. Our weekend started out lovely, leaving for the Dead Sea with 'the clique,' excited for the weekend. After taking the bus to Amman, our mission was to find a way to the resort. Stepping off the bus, we were immediately swarmed by every taxi driver in Amman. As we are learning Modern Standard Arabic (فحصى), the only people that understand us are those that have a higher education. In other words, not taxi drivers. Without Akrum and his عامسة, we would have paid a lot more than we did. The swarm around us began bargaining with Akrum. This situation was absolutely ridiculous. Six foot tall Akrum, holding a huge pink bag, bargaining with the herd of Jordanians, followed by five Americans. Each driver had a better "deal" for us.  As it was, the taxi drivers have a little game that they like to play. After reaching an "agreement," we got into two taxis and about a mile out, the drivers stop and get out to say that "actually, the price is..." After eventually (and by eventually I mean about twenty minutes and a lot of yelling) agreeing to a slightly higher price, we continue on our way. Dropping us off, the taxi drivers attempt to justify the price increase by calling us "rich" because we're staying at a resort. Unfortunately, this was not the last we would have to deal with these obnoxious drivers.

Floating, covered in mud, in the Dead Sea.

      The rest of our weekend at the Dead Sea was wonderful, and relatively uneventful. We checked into our rooms and were pleasantly surprised to find that we were upgraded to a mountain view. The view from our balcony was of the Dead Sea with Palestine behind it. It was gorgeous. That night we swam, enjoyed the swim up bar, and watched the World Cup. The next day, we awoke bright and early (thanks to Cassidy and Rebecca) and hung out at the pool. There, we met a group of engineers working for a consulting firm. They were from all over the world, South Africa, Canada, and Jamaica. They were working for a company that removes minerals from the Dead Sea. They took us to lunch in a really cute place outside of the resort. After lunch, we wandered down the beach and into the Dead Sea. I think I burned the soles of my feet off in the sand. Before embarking into the sea, we covered ourselves in the mineral rich mud. Venturing out into the Dead Sea was such a unique experience. The water literally pushes you to the top. If you try to stand, you "levitate" above the surface. The water was so warm, and it was weird knowing that there was nothing alive in it. It was also really interesting that Israel was just a swim away.

     That night, we felt a bit of the tension with Israel. Akrum, the Jordanian American, asked a resort worker what city in Israel was all lit up behind us. The worker sourly replies "It's Palestine" and abruptly walked away. We never did find out what city we were seeing. That night we saw a belly dancer, a band, and more dancers. We also heard from one of the hotel workers that not many Americans visit, it's mostly Arabs and some Europeans. I still can't believe that I'm seeing all of these places.

     Back to the taxi drivers. As there were no buses running the days we came/left, we called our taxi drivers. Shockingly, the price increased again as we drove further out. Unfortunately, that is how all taxi drivers in Jordan are and are an annoyance that I will not miss. I immensely dislike bargaining for everything. Granted, everything is ridiculously cheaper than anywhere in America, but it's an awful way to live. As we walked away from our taxi driver and our 20jd ride, I never wanted to get into a taxi again. Five minutes later, we got into another cab. However, this time the taxi was government regulated and not the slightest bit annoying. Our driver stopped at a fruit stand on the way to Irbid, and the vendors gave us free fruit and lettuce. Interesting. Back to Irbid, we immediately went to our most comfortable place, Port City Java. It happens to be the only American coffee shop in Irbid. And I've never been happier to pay an overpriced amount for a set price, no bargaining required.